


find the light (nothing could compare)

by imaginedecember



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, brief mention of Ray's unrequited crush on Michael, brief mentions of Mavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1872528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedecember/pseuds/imaginedecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray wasn't one to listen to the gossip around him and he certainly was not one to succumb to his desperation but here he was, giving in. And, really, how could he have ever stopped himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	find the light (nothing could compare)

**Author's Note:**

> Reason for rating: It's teen and up for swearing. Other then that, I apologize for any language that is triggering or offensive. 
> 
> Title: The title not in parentheses is one of the lyrics to the song Beautiful Pain by Eminem. 
> 
> Note: This is in response to a prompt I was given off tumblr from firebornaustrian (better known as remember-the-mole). In summary, the prompt said that there's a rumor going around about that balloon seller around the corner. He gives out one balloon for free each day, and if you get that balloon, you are destined for happiness.

Ray lived for these narrow streets. As soon as he turned left from his less then stellar apartment, silence enveloped him like an old friend. The wind kissed his cheeks, sweetly just like a mere whisper. Sun poured down but its rays did not beat upon his back. And when it was cloudy, why, it was even more alluring. 

When the clouds came through, Ray could sometimes taste the cold front behind an oncoming storm and sometimes when the clouds were predicted to rest in the skies for the whole day, Ray would spend hours there, lost there amongst those narrow streets of crumbling brick and cobblestone. It was a miss mash of pavement that he had never known but somehow, it felt right. Like he too was like the pavement, the sun, the clouds, the wind and everything else that encompassed this tiny, blocked off section of a busy downtown New York City. 

He was these narrow streets. He was forgotten, no care given into what pavement would be right for its purpose. What purpose did these streets even originally serve? Ray was never sure. Not until he heard the whispers from the people bustling around his apartment. 

“Did you hear?”

The sentence alone was enough to be intriguing. Random people began to stop, crowding around the original speaker as if they held the secrets to the world. Why, what gossip was traveling around this time? Was it something shocking or something that everyone knew but that the people who were involved were far too oblivious to admit or see?

“No, what is it this time?”

It was the question that everyone was waiting for. 

But Ray was never one to hang around like those people. He wasn’t the type to care. If it somehow involved him (even though he was like a shitty painting on a wall - only cared about if it was signed by someone famous), he would turn his ear and listen. But everything that spewed from their mouths stemmed from the deepest of sins, so petty it poisoned the air. No, it wasn’t in Ray to care. 

But then he heard something mystical, something that everyone was curious about, no matter how many times they pushed away the thought of love, of fate. His friend, Michael, who visited him from time to time to play video games with and fuck around with thought like that. He thought that such things were trivial. But, really, even he couldn’t deny the charm of a certain lanky, overly excited British kid. It was a love match for sure. 

Sometimes being alone can only seem right for so long. Then desperation came in. Ray always made sure that Michael never listened to that side, that it was okay to be lonely but it was okay to try (at least with the right state of mind and not out of the fact that wanted someone to warm his bed and not his heart - that wasn’t fair for either person involved) and Michael always reminded him (in that harsh, blunt way of his) to remember who he was and to not let anyone fuck with him. It was sometimes hard to face, even harder to instill as a moral like Michael did so easily. But Ray tried. And right now Ray felt like he was facing a trial. 

“You know those streets that they blocked off? Well, there’s a balloon seller that hangs around the corner and if you go to him and he hands you a balloon for free, then you’re destined for happiness.”

Ray really didn’t want to give a fuck about some balloon seller that probably didn’t even exist in the first place but he suddenly found himself wanting to try. And besides, if there was a balloon seller, he was infringing on the narrow streets that Ray had called home and went to when the mix of the sound of video games in his apartment and the sirens outside his window no longer lulled him to sleep. If he just kept repeating that to himself, hopefully he’d forget about how stupid he was. A right idiot, he was. 

Turning his head, Ray briskly walked away before the two original speakers could continue and answer the many questions from the crowd surrounding them. He didn’t want to be a part of that toxic environment anymore. He could feel their hope delve deep inside his heart and his head struggled to remind himself of rational thought. A free ballon could somehow give happiness? For eternity? It was just a trick and the brain was such a sensitive, fickle thing. But in the end, it’d all go to Hell. He knew it. 

So, why after work that day, did he lock his apartment door and head for the narrow streets with the sole intent of finding out if there was a damn balloon seller or not? 

Because Ray couldn’t admit to himself that he was desperate.

Sighing, Ray threw the hood of his hoodie up and crossed his arms across his chest. The night was chilly but damp. A cold front had already come through even though the morning promised a sunny evening. Instead, it decided to match Ray’s mood to a tee. For once, he wasn’t happy to go to the narrow streets. All he did was walk in the middle of the street. Crossing over the line that separated cobblestone from brick, he turned left and threw himself on to the bench in between two looming oaks. 

This was where he was going to meet his end. His thoughts were rumbling like thunder, roaring much too loud in his ear. His heart felt like it was shriveling inside of him. He was giving in to that feeling of desperation and he could no longer feel the chill of the wind rattling his bones. 

“Excuse me, stranger,” a voice spoke. 

Blinking owlishly at the ground, Ray gasped when he saw spit shined black shoes and tan pants. When his eyes traveled upwards, he expected a vendor, like the ones he saw in Bioshock Infinite but what he got instead was certainly not one he was expecting. 

Ray reminded himself that he was in New York, at night, on a street with no people. Turning his head from left to right, Ray dug his hands into his front pocket where he kept a pocket knife. It would suffice, if just to ensure he’d survive for a few more seconds then if he had nothing. But the stranger paid no heed to the tenseness of his shoulders nor how strange it was to be asking a complete stranger a question in the middle of the night on an empty street. 

“Would you care for a balloon?”

And, really, Ray felt like he just injected himself into a horror movie. He expected the man to pull off his human mask to reveal a clown underneath. Now, Ray really wished this was a video game so he could pull out a pistol, a grenade even. Just to get the fuck away. God, he would even take a shitty flash grenade to stun the fucker. 

“Listen, buddy. That’s a creepy as fuck sentiment so I’m gonna head out before you murder me,” Ray spoke calmly, trying to grab a hold on the tremor in his voice. Keeping his fingers locked on the handle of the pocket knife, Ray stood. 

The man frowned as he leaned on his cart, shaking his head. Sighing, he pushed the cart until it moved to rest in the grass. He held his arms out wide, nodding at Ray. 

“Go ahead and search me. I have no weapon,” he spoke. He kept his expression stern, deciding not to smile in case it did nothing to comfort but instead instill fear. 

“I’m not gonna touch you or go near you,” Ray nearly growled. He was getting more and more ticked at the dude. Fuck, the original speakers from earlier in the morning hadn’t mentioned how much of a creep the dude would be and that he would show up unannounced at the creepiest times. “What the fuck are you doing out here at night like in a goddamn horror movie?” Ray almost expected to start hearing the tell tale sounds of Silent Hill. He could almost feel the fog coming in. 

Fuck, all he wanted was to forget that he was ever desperate to know if he would have a life of happiness, despite only having two friends, three if you counted his bundle of consoles. He was kind of sick of being ‘that stupid kid who won’t go outside’. Really, he just never had a good reason. He wanted a good reason to step outside of his apartment. No, not work. Michael and Gavin were enough but he wanted something more. 

And now he was completely unsure if he wanted a goddamn balloon to answer that question for him. The fact that the balloon seller was like a goddamn enemy in a video game feeding on the silence and the darkness told him that this balloon thing was never and could never be true.

“I could ask you the same exact thing,” the seller spoke in a quiet mumble as he dropped his arms. They hung at his sides, swinging back and forth like he had an excess of energy to let out. It reminded Ray of Gavin. 

And that was when Ray really took in the look of this creepy fucker. Because, really, he’d have to take in everything about him to report him to the cops. Right?

The first thing that Ray saw was his eyes because they were glowing at him. Fucking glowing. This sounded more and more like a demon thing. But they weren’t red. No, they were brown but it was as if the sun was shining on them. Brown eyes always looked better underneath the rays of the sun and in the shadow of its shine. It made them appear like molten whiskey or whatever other adjectives and objects could be used to describe them. 

Ray never told Michael this but he liked him once upon a time and he always spent time looking at his eyes when the sun was around. It always made Ray appreciate him more especially because at first, Michael was always angry and then he dropped that exterior and became his lovable, asshole self. His eyes when the sun found them always reminded Ray of that molten interior. And when Gavin found this out too, why, Ray knew they were perfect for each other. Because Gavin let Michael know and Ray was always too much of a coward to admit things like that. Besides, Ray knew from the beginning he wasn’t what Michael needed when it came to a lover. Being his friend was enough. 

But these seller’s eyes. Well, it took all the restrain Ray had to move on from them and not mention a damn thing about them. They were windows, windows that Ray wanted to bust through and break and sink into and see just how alluring they’d be when the sun was out to really shine on them. Now, really, how were they glowing like this without the sun? It was almost too much. Too much and not enough. So, Ray, reluctantly, moved on before he stayed on them for too long and was found out. 

His eyes trailed upwards to shaggy hair that was well worn by nervous fingers. It was teased so much that some strands stuck straight off his head, while other strands laid flat and undisturbed. And Ray wanted to comb his own fingers through his hair, to see how attractive he’d look with his hair everywhere like he was just electrocuted. 

Down, down, his eyes trailed. He took in the untucked long sleeve black t-shirt that hugged his arm muscles and firm but still pudgy stomach just right. His hands were something that left Ray a bit stuck in his mind, kind of too lost in the imagery. Ray’s hands were tiny as fuck compared to his. They were long and thick, bony too and he could only imagine him using them to express his emotions. And if he looked close enough, he could see a tattoo that accented his hands well. Too well. Overall, he was lanky, tall. He hovered around and above Ray and he was lost in the pull.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ray managed to say as his brain focused back on the seller. He was narrowing his eyes at him, calculating Ray like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. Ray felt like a specimen underneath that damned gaze. It lit his heart asunder. It left an inch beneath his skin, something that couldn’t be cured unless…

But he was a stranger. 

A creepy one at that. 

And, goddamn it, he wasn’t that desperate. 

“Me neither,” the seller spoke softly, a half smirk lighting up his features. “Then I saw you and decided to keep you company. You know being a balloon seller on this street is lonely. And all people want from me are my balloons, even most, actually all, don’t even deserve them. So, how about it, kid? Will you sit and talk with me?”

Sitting back down on the bench, Ray kept his hands in his hoodie pocket just in case but turned his full attention to the balloon seller. 

So, he was desperate. 

And did he mention before that he was foolish?

“First things first, I’m Ray.” It felt like a good place to start and it, very gladly, got the seller to stop looking at him with that squinty look of his. The seller’s smirk dropped into a warm smile, one that Ray didn’t really wanna dwell on in favor of loosing his heart forever. He then sat down next to him, leaving ample space between them just in case Ray was still uncomfortable. Which he was. He just thanked whoever was watching over him that the seller had more of an idea of personal space than Gavin did. 

“Joel,” the seller introduced. He didn’t stick out his hand like most people and Ray was glad. There was no way he was going to take his hands out of his pocket. “So, what do you do for a living?” Snorting, Ray shook his head. 

“Awesome start, dude. I work at Gamestop actually,” Ray answered. Now it was his turn to give Joel a calculating look of his own because, really, he was curious. “What in the Hell does a balloon seller do for a job anyway?” Joel laughed, the sound more high-pitched and child-like then Ray would have guessed. He assumed that Joel could turn into a blabbering, rambling two-year-old. Hm, he’d fit in quite well with his group of friends. 

“A bit of acting here and there. Stocks are a pleasure, gold especially. Video games are nice too. I usually don’t come up here unless I’m free and not feeling like putting in a game or watching the stock channel.” Joel’s answer made sense. Of course a balloon seller would be an actor and somehow be obsessed with gold. He would have high tailed it out of there if he said something like secret agent even though he wouldn’t put it pass the seller to be that in his spare time. He certainly had the aura for it. 

“Are you gonna throw down some sweet ninja moves or am I gonna have to be forced to believe you?” Ray questioned. That squinty look was back but this time Joel was huffing, almost searching for the right words to use. He then shook his head, giving into the warm laughter that he felt whenever he met that once in a lifetime perfect stranger. He hoped that, unlike the others, Ray would stay. 

“Well, you caught me, Ray. I’m actually a serial killer turned agent and this is just my plot to steal you for some secret project that would most likely get you killed,” Joel spoke rapidly. Gasping, Ray held a hand to his heart, pocket knife forgotten as he joked with the seller. This was his element, really. 

“No, not the secret project! Gee, what will I ever do? Are you gonna be my secret lover, too? Saving me from the world?” Ray asked. Suddenly, Joel was in his space, the inches of air and bench between them forgotten. He was snarling quietly, almost playfully (really, it was all Ray could wish for - he didn’t really wanna befriend a secret panther) and he was snapping his sharp canines. 

“And what are you gonna do if I am?”

And then Joel was pulling back. He was standing, leaning back against his cart again as if nothing had happened. Ray was stuck on the bench, blush as light as the kiss of the wind. His heart had renewed energy and he had never felt it beat like this. Even being two seconds away from a 400,000 gamerscore didn’t give him quite as big a high as this. 

Joel was indescribable. 

And Ray now felt not only desperate to grab him by his shirt sleeve just to keep him around for a few moments more but to keep him around forever.

“It’s getting too late, Ray. Best you get some sleep. Wouldn’t wanna miss that shift chock-full of bratty teenagers and their mothers, now, wouldn’t you?” Winking, Joel gave one last glance over his shoulder before pushing his cart down the road. Crossing over brick into cobblestone, he turned the corner and disappeared. 

Ray was still stuck there on the bench. Shakily, he stood up and looked around him. Surely, that was all a dream. God, he really wished it was but when he pinched himself just to make sure, he discovered only pain. It spread to his heart and the muscle was back to shrinking into nothing.

Ray had found a stranger on these narrow streets and now he would most likely never see much of him again. It hurt worse then letting Michael go to be with Gavin. When that happened, he knew deep down in his heart that he really never was Michael’s and Gavin just fit with him so perfectly. 

Like puzzle pieces. 

But he couldn’t just let Joel go. He’d be so hard to forget. He wasn’t a ballon that he could whisk away into the air and watch as the clouds took him away. It wasn’t that easy. Nothing so imperfectly perfect like that was.

Sighing, he trudged down the street. Turning the corner, he felt like he could almost feel the ghost of Joel’s presence but the seller was long gone. Ascending the cement stairs to his apartment building, he hesitated there at the door. 

Something bumped into his shoulder, its material squeaking as it rubbed against the cloth of his sweatshirt. Looking over his shoulder, he blinked once, twice before everything slammed into him at once. 

Because, there, floating before him was a red balloon, so red and poignant that a rose could never compare. 

And scrawled on it was a message in slanted and messy black permanent marker. 

_Red really suits you._

_You have a passion I’ve never seen._

_Don’t waste it._

_And don’t waste your happiness._

_I’d love to see it stay._

_Joel._

Underneath it was a number that was clearly Joel’s. Grasping the string that dangled from the balloon, Ray held it close to his chest. It almost felt the string was connecting him in a way to the balloon seller, to the one that Ray would never give up on. 

Ray lived for these narrow streets but they never were so serene and perfect as when Joel was there with him. 

Nothing else could ever dare to compare to the light that he brought to him.


End file.
